A Rose on Fleet Street
by Shadowstar513
Summary: Mrs. Lovett had a daughter, Rose, whom she left alone on the streets of London at the age of five. She is a behind-the-scenes character in Sweeney Todd. Has history w/ most characters and meets others. Almost anything that happens is her fault. R&R please
1. Prologue: Rose Abandoned

_Prologue_

The rain poured down on Fleet street, soaking the five year-old girl and her mother outside of the simple little shop. Mrs. Lovett scowled down at her daughter, her pretty features marred by a hateful expression, as the girl whimpered and tears streamed down her cheeks.

"I told you, leave and never come back." Mrs. Lovett glared at the girl with her dark curls falling around her shoulders, framing her delicate face. Nellie Lovett didn't care what her late husband had thought of their daughter: as long as she wasn't blond she wasn't good enough for Benjamin Barker, whom Mrs. Lovett had always been infatuated with, even though he was currently wed to her former friend, Lucy. Since the recent death of her husband and the birth of Benjamin and Lucy's daughter, Johanna, Nellie had seen less and less in her own daughter, Rose, and simply wanted to be rid of her.

Rose Lovett didn't understand. First, her Daddy was gone, dead, and now her Mum wanted her gone. Maybe she wanted her dead, too. Rose whimpered again. What was wrong with Mum? Mostly Rose missed Daddy. He had loved her, had called her his "little Rosie". No one called her that anymore. Ever since Mr. and Mrs. Barker who lived upstairs had their baby, little Johanna, her Mum had been even nastier. Rose looked up at her mother, pleading. Nellie looked back at her daughter with a cold stare on her face.

"Mum, please. Do I have to go? What did I ever do to you?" Rose's large eyes looked at her mother and for a moment, Nellie faltered. She had always loved those eyes, beautiful, haunting, the colors in their depths ever-changing with the weather or Rose's emotions. Right now they were a blue-gray with green-gray flecks in the irises.

Mrs. Lovett hardened and glared at her daughter. "You were born to me and Mr. Lovett, not me and Benjamin Barker. Therefore, I don't want you anymore than I wanted my husband once I met Benjamin. Now get out!" Mrs. Lovett lost her composure and kicked the five year-old hard in the stomach, sending her flying halfway across the street. Mrs. Lovett closed the door and went inside, causing the street to darken, leaving the girl alone on the streets of London.

Rose picked herself up, ignoring the pain in her abdomen. One would think she looked dejected, hurt, sad. Indeed she was, but if one looked they would notice her ball her small hands into fists and clench her teeth.

Rose looked at her former home. The light was on downstairs where her mother was probably baking: she loved to do that. She knew now that she hated her mother, Mrs. Lovett, and would never take her name again. Her gaze traveled upstairs to the apartment the Barkers rented from them. Her rage flared. She liked Benjamin and Lucy Barker, they were always kind to her and were excited that there would be an older girl in the house to help Johanna in the world. Rose had promised Mrs. Barker that she would always look out for Johanna, and she intended to keep that promise. But she also knew of her mother's lust for Benjamin, and that Nellie Lovett would never give up until the happy little family was destroyed and she was there in Lucy's place. Rose would do anything to keep that from happening. If she had her way, Rose would keep her mother from ruining anyone else's life. But she was only five, and she could do nothing. Her mother would destroy so much more.

Rose walked across the street, into an alley, and behind a garbage can. She sat there the rest of the night, tears flowing freely, staring at her mother's home with nothing but pure hatred in her intense gaze.


	2. The Past 1: Cayden

_Chapter 1_

I looked up at the sunrise, brushing my dark curls out of my face. As much as I hated Fleet Street, my own birthplace, I couldn't seem to stay away from it. Although ever since my mother, Nellie Lovett, had kicked me out of my home two years ago, I had slept far from Fleet Street, every morning at sunrise I returned to the street and faced my former home.

I had learned of numerous happenings on Fleet Street and beyond from my wanderings. Including the arrest and conviction of Benjamin Barker. He was sent to a life of hard labor in Australia for a crime he did not commit. It gave me a sort of grim satisfaction, knowing that my mother would never get the man she had lusted for and had forsaken me for. It was also painful, wondering what happened to Lucy and Johanna.

Judge Turpin had lusted for Lucy and so ruined the little family's life. It turned out that my mother wasn't necessary. Lucy had turned the Judge down, but something was wrong with the upstairs apartment. No lights ever came on, no one ever came out.

I sat and watched the sunrise as I did every morning. A crash and a scream startled me from my reverie. I glanced up and immediately drew my knees up to my chest. Mrs. Lovett stepped out from her shop and tossed out a young woman with long yellow hair onto the street. She stumbled weakly out onto the street, looking dazed. I looked up from my knees: she looked familiar.

My mother went back inside, leaving the woman on the streets just as she had done to me two years earlier. The woman stumbled to my side of the street and collapsed against the side of a building.

I couldn't just leave her there, so I ran to the woman's side. Her blond hair was in her face, which was red and warm with fever. Her body shook with chills. I sighed, I felt obligated to help her, but I had no idea how. I lifted her under the arms and dragged her into the nearest alley.

I smiled as I walked into the alley I had relocated to so that I could take care of the woman my mother had kicked out. I had been out shopping with my measly amount of money for some food and clean water, both were difficult to come by. The woman's fever had broken the day before, and I was hoping that she might awaken today and tell me more about herself.

As I approached I saw the woman sitting upright in the bed of rags I had prepared for her. She was looking around nervously, she appeared to have no idea of where she was.

I came and sat beside her, pouring water into a little chipped cup, waiting for her to say something. As I prepared some water for her I heard her mutter something under her breath.

"Um... Excuse me, Ma'am?" I asked tentatively. She turned to stare at me, her eyes wild, like she had just noticed me.

"Where am I?" She asked, becoming worried.

"You're in an alley on Fleet Street across from Mrs. Lovett's shop."

"Mrs. Lovett?" She asked, her voice trailing off. "That witch! She said that taking the arsenic would end me, would take me to Benjamin. All it did was muddle my thoughts and tarnish my memories. Witch! Witch! No pity in her soul for all of the innocent people in the world..." She trailed off again. "A witch..."

I panicked. "Ma'am, what happened to you?"

"The judge sent away my husband, my Benjamin, and he took my Johanna..." The woman was near tears now. _Benjamin. Johanna._ I looked at her in a new light now.

"Mrs. Barker?" I asked, my hands shaking.

"Y-yes." She looked startled that I had recognized her. "How do you know me? And how do you know Nellie Lovett, that witch, she ruined me, that little witch..."

"What did my Mum do to you?" I asked. She trembled as she spoke and even the mention of the word "Lovett" sent her into fits.

"Your mum?" she asked, confused. "Nellie only had one daughter, but she disappeared two years ago. She would be about your age now..." She looked at me as though seeing me for the first time. "Rose. Little Rosie Lovett?"

I found myself with her tender arms around me in a warm embrace. At first I backed away from it, but soon I found the touch comforting. I hadn't been hugged like this since Daddy passed.

"No." I whispered and Mrs. Barker pulled away. "No. Rose Lovett is gone. She has been for a while."

"What happened to you Rosie? I'll tell you what happened to me, but first you tell." Her voice was completely unclouded now, and she sounded more motherly than my own mother had ever been to me.

"After Mum tossed me onto the streets, I went far from Fleet Street. When winter set in, I got the Flu. I don't remember much, except that a kind old couple took me in and made me well again. I refused to tell them my old name, so they gave me a new one, Cayden. The woman said it meant 'fighter'. I usually sleep far from Fleet Street, but every morning I find myself back here to watch the sunrise." I finished. Reflecting on my past was hard for me, though I left out most of the story. I didn't want to scare Mrs. Barker.


	3. The Past 2: Lucy

**Oh, poor Cayden. Now its Lucy's turn.**

_Chapter 2_

"It's your turn, Mrs. Barker." The child's beautiful eyes gazed at Lucy from under chocolate curls. Lucy's own eyes flickered and closed, avoiding the gaze of innocence fractured, but not yet broken.

"All right." She conceded. "After Benjamin left, I was distraught. Nellie helped me a lot, gave me support." Lucy sighed. "I suppose she got tired of hearing me go on about how I missed Benjamin. I had noticed her lust for him before, but I had always chosen to ignore her flirtations. She got sick of me and Johanna as reminders that Benjamin had his own wife and child. I was so depressed that she was able to convince me to commit suicide. She said that Benjamin was most certainly dead and that I would join him if I took the arsenic. She promised to take care of Johanna.." _But she didn't,_ she thought, _she muddled you up, tossed you onto the streets, and gave Johanna to that bastard, Turpin. Your best friend betrayed you, all because she loved your husband._

"I didn't take a large enough dose to die, though. I sat in bed for months, weak, depressed, mentally and emotionally shattered. She became sick of me, and, well, here I am."

"And Johanna?"

"Johanna... my little Johanna was taken. Taken by _Judge Turpin_!" She spat the name as though it was something revolting she'd stepped in.

"Why do you hate the Judge so much, I mean other than what he did to Mr. Barker?" The girl, Cayden, asked.

"Soon after Benjamin left, he told me to come to his home. The night I arrived to speak with him he was holding a masquerade party. Everyone was in masks and I knew no one. I drank and drank the champagne available, till I was tipsy, though not completely befuddled. I sat down on a daybed, exhausted and dizzy. Then the Judge came up to me, wearing a devil's mask. A crowd of people surrounded us as he removed the mask, exposing his face. The people began to laugh as he..." Lucy stopped, she was shaking and tears were streaming down her cheeks.

"What did he do?" Cayden asked.

Lucy was about to reply when she remembered that she was talking to a seven year-old. "He... he hurt me." She answered shakily.

Cayden looked at Lucy. Both were crying, reliving the pain of their pasts. Cayden took up Lucy's embrace once more. It was impossible to tell how long they sat there like that, holding each other, gaining comfort from their sorrow. Cayden could no longer control herself. She'd been strong for two years now, alone. She was sick of being strong. She let all the tears built up from the past two years flow freely.

Lucy patted the girl's back, comforting her. She couldn't bear to see a child suffer. "Don't worry, Cayden. We'll be okay. As long as we need each other, we'll be together. And together, no one can tear us down. Not even Nellie Lovett."

**Oh, how sad. I think its great that they can depend on each other. Mrs. Lovett is a more complex character than you would think from the story so far. Do not judge her yet.**


	4. The Past 3: Toby

**Twelve years in the future. Cayden has a shop on Fleet Street. Read and Enjoy!**

_Chapter 3_

Cayden Fletcher didn't look up from her sewing as another customer entered her dress shop. She smiled as she considered how much her life had changed since she was kicked out of her home on Fleet Street fourteen years ago. She had spent many years with Lucy. They had survived off of each other, working together until she was sixteen. Lucy had taught her to sew and make clothes. Eventually Lucy had realized that Cayden needed to live on her own, that she was merely holding her back. Cayden had opened a shop, _The Silken Rose_,and was doing quite well in her business. She still kept in touch with Lucy and paid for all her clothes and food. She offered to allow Lucy to stay in the apartment above the shop, but the woman graciously declined. They both knew it was too small a space for the both of them. Cayden stroked the tiny, nearly invisible stitches in the dress she was stitching.

"Excuse me." The woman who had entered walked up to the sewing desk just then. Cayden kept sewing.

"Hello. I'm Cayden Fletcher, owner of _The Silken Rose. _How may I help you?"

"I'd like to place an order, Miss Fletcher. Three day dresses, and one fancy dress."

"All right, Ma'am. I need your name, and I'll have to measure you for your dress size."

"My name is Nellie Lovett, Miss Fletcher."

Cayden jerked back and averted her eyes to the floor. She knew she had heard that voice before. Her own mother was buying a dress from her! The mother that had betrayed her and Lucy. She had to take Mrs. Lovett into the back and measure her, but her mother would certainly recognize her eyes. She scrambled for a hat and picked up her sun hat off of the floor. The brim hid her eyes and allowed her to look at Mrs. Lovett. She seemed older than Cayden remembered, but the rest was the same.

"Do you own a shop across the street? Another shop on Fleet Street?" Cayden couldn't help wondering if her mother had moved since she was five, though she doubted it. It was odd, but they both seemed to have ended up and stayed on Fleet Street. Again.

"Yes, yes I do, Miss Fletcher." Mrs. Lovett replied, surprised.

"Well, then. I suppose we ought to go in back and get you measured." Cayden said, regaining her composure. With that she led her mother in back of the store.

I sighed as I walked up the steps to my apartment above my shop. That day had been one of the most stressful of my life. Every moment I was trying not to get caught by my mother while getting her measured for a dress and acting as normal as possible. What was worse was that she showed promise for being a regular customer. I wanted nothing more than to go upstairs, put away my earnings for the day, and go to sleep.

I opened my door and walked over towards the kitchen. I staggered back in surprise: the pantry was open, food was all over the floor, and a small figure was huddled in a corner.

"Come out! Show yourself, Thief!" I yelled at the figure. It rose and tried to run. It was fast, but I was faster. I quickly caught the thief, pulling him by the ear into the light where I could look at him. "Who are you?" I asked.

He looked at me and shook his head, eyes wide with fear. He looked to be a boy of about ten. 

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. Now, who are you?" 

"Tobias Ragg, Ma'am. I'm sorry, but I escaped from the workhouse a week or so ago, and I have no food or a place to go. I was just hungry, Ma'am."

"So, Toby. You need a place to stay and some food." He nodded. I smiled. I was being too sympathetic. I should kick him out and demand repayment for the food he took, but I was lonely and he seemed like a good kid. "You can stay here with me, Toby."

"I can!" Toby smiled, his eyes sparkling.

"Yes, Toby, you can. You will get room and board. I will get you a little bit of job training. And I will sew you some new clothing." I added after looking at his battered attire. "First, some ground rules. You will call me either Cayden or Miss Fletcher, whichever one you're most comfortable with. There will be none of this ' Ma'am ' rubbish. You will ask for things, not just take them. And you will always feel safe." I said, softening.

After I gave him some food and he had settled in, I took him to a room where I had set up a cot for him. He sat there, his eyes big and sad. Innocence fractured, but not yet broken. Just like me. I sat on a stool by his cot and held him to me, stroking his hair. Toby smiled.

"You will always feel safe."

**The plot thickens... I hope you liked it! Thanx to all my reviewers so far, though there aren't that many. I will try to read some of your stories and review them, though if they are in a category that does not interest me at all, I'm sorry, but I'm not going to read it. Thanks anyway. Keep reading!**


	5. The Past 4: The MarketThe Lullaby

**Hello, it's me! I hope you are enjoying the story so far, because this is where it gets exciting. This is also the last chapter set before Sweeney Todd, so for all of you crazed Sweeney fangirls out there, Sweeney will debut soon. This is the longest chapter so far, and my favorite.**

**For the record, Cayden has the same accent as her mother. Sometimes I write it in, sometimes I don't, so keep that in mind. **

**Disclaimer:I do not own Sweeney Todd or any related characters. Rose/Cayden, however is my own wicked awesome creation! I forgot to do disclaimers before, so... Oh, well!**

**Without further ado, Chapter 4!**

_Chapter 4_

"Toby!" I called into his room. "We're going to the market to pick up a few things. Get ready and meet me downstairs in five minutes." I heard a muffled reply coming from the direction of his bed and headed down the hall. I knew it would take Toby a while to fully wake and get dressed, so I started to heat myself some tea.

As I sipped my tea I considered that it had been an entire year since Toby had come to live with me. The eleven-year old boy had been scared and tired when he came to live with me, as I thought repeatedly when it came to Toby, that he had been innocence fractured, but not yet broken. Living with me, that fracture had healed, and he had the kindest heart a child could possibly have. When I had asked him what sort of job training he would like, he had said that he would like to be a barber. I always smiled at that, though the thought also sent a pang through my heart. I always thought how it would be nice if Mr. Barker were still around, he could train Toby. They would have gotten along quite well, I was certain.

I smiled as I heard Toby pounding down the hallway in his boots. Together we headed downstairs and out the door. Toby was like a little brother to me, but I knew that what he needed and really wanted was a mother. Toby was still with me for now, but eventually he would want to leave. To find a job, a future, and maybe a mother. Him being eleven, I knew it wouldn't be too long.

As we walked into the market place I noticed a new stall near the center of the market. It was actually more of a stage. The sign on it said _Signor Pirelli: King of Barbers_. I stifled a giggle as a tall man with dark hair in a loud blue suit entered the stage from behind a curtain. He started rambling about his skill as a barber. I started to roll my eyes when I noticed Toby's eyes were wide with wonder. I smiled sympathetically and placed my hand on Toby's shoulder. He looked up expectantly.

"I have to go and pick up some stuff, Toby." I said gently. "But you can stay here and watch, if you like." I amended after seeing the disappointment on his face. Toby brightened and replied.

"Yes, Miss Fletcher. I'll stay right 'ere an' wait for you."

"See you in about an hour, Toby." I gave him a quick squeeze and headed off towards some of the produce stands.

About an hour later I returned to the barber's stall, my arms laden with produce, sewing supplies, and a few books (mostly poetry). I got back just in time to see Signor Pirelli ending his "show". I found my way over towards Toby and listened to Signor Pirelli make an announcement.

"I, Adolpho Pirelli, the King of the Barbers, the Barber of Kings, have need of an assistant. So, tomorrow, I am heading to the workhouse for a young boy." Signor Pirelli said in a rich Italian accent. "I am going to set one of those poor little boys free. Now, as I bless you, I pray that you in turn will pray for me and my future assistant. See you all tomorrow. Goodbye, and I blow you a kiss!" He finished, miming blowing a kiss to the audience, and he left the stage through the curtain.

"Come, Toby. Let's go home." I said, guiding Toby towards home. He stopped walking and turned back towards Signor Pirelli's stage. "Toby?" I questioned, a bit worried.

"I- I want to be his assistant, Miss Fletcher. Please?"

"We'll talk about this at home, Toby. For now, let's go." I started walking and he trotted behind. I paused for a moment at a book stall to browse quickly. I'd always had a fondness for poetry and the like, so I took whatever chances I got to read books of poetry. Even when I was younger I had devoured the volumes. I was so absorbed in finding a good book that I didn't notice when Toby wandered off...

After I had failed at haggling with the book vendor to make the volume in my budget, I was in a foul mood and more than ready to go home. I looked around moodily after Toby. I huffed angrily. Toby was nowhere to be seen. I was almost ready to go home and leave without him when I heard a familiar voice yell from across the plaza.

"No! No, I'm not stealing. You have to believe me, Sir!"

"Toby!" I whispered in disbelief. I took off across the market, not stopping even for a second until I reached Toby. I wrapped my arms around him protectively before turning to face the enemy. I caught my breath. Standing before me were the Beadle Bamford and Judge Turpin, along with a shop vendor.

I cleared my throat and straightened. "I'm sorry, Sirs, but what seems to be the problem 'ere?" I asked as innocently as possible.

"This rat here was stealing some of my merchandise." The vendor accused, pointing at assorted items, including rare fruit and some fairly fine jewelry.

"Ah. Well, Sir, I see 'ow me little brother, Toby, 'ere may have upset you with that, but what does that involve you two fine gentlemen?" I questioned, indicating Beadle and the Judge. I had to work hard to keep from gagging on the words "fine gentlemen".

"Well, you see Miss... ?" The Beadle began, his words sliding off his tongue in a way that made my skin crawl. Everything about his being screamed rat, rodent, vermin.

"Fletcher. Cayden Fletcher." I introduced myself begrudgingly.

"Well, Miss Fletcher, my master, the good Judge, and I would have overlooked it, however, this particular lad is a repeated offender and this stall stocks some... valuable items. Any stealing simply will not be tolerated."

"I didn't steal!" Toby protested. "Something shiny fell off the stand. I was putting it back..."

"I know, Toby. It's okay." I whispered, giving him a quick squeeze before straightening again.

"Well, Miss Fletcher. You seem quite attached to this boy. Is he a relation of yours?" The Judge spoke up for the first time and if Beadle's voice had made my skin crawl, his voice made me want to hide away and never come out.

I had already said that Toby was my brother, but I sensed an ulterior motive underneath his supposed-to-be-charming tones.

"Yes, Toby is me younger brother."

"And are you his guardian?"

"Yes." I dreaded what came next.

"How old are you, Miss?"

"Twenty, Sir."

"I am afraid, Miss Fletcher, that you are not capable of properly caring for the boy." He said, pacing back and forth before me.

"Meaning?"

He turned to face me and looked me up and down, eyes lingering a little longer than they should have at certain places, before continuing. "You'll need to turn him over to the Beadle by tomorrow at noon. He will find the boy a new guardian and place him in a proper home. But as the Beadle stated previously, any stealing will not be tolerated. The only way the child can learn not to repeat his mistake is to be punished." A slow smile spread across his features. I saw the Beadle discreetly hand his cane to the vendor, who I noticed was already armed with a whip, which he immediately discarded in favor of the Beadle's nearly legendary beating cane.

"No! Leave Toby alone! 'E's just a boy!" I lunged at the vendor, clawing at his face, knocking the cane from his grasp. I sensed someone approaching behind me and turned on the Judge, knocking into him until he, like the vendor, was flat on the ground.

As the vendor struggled to rise, finding the cane, the Judge tried to push me off, banging my shoulder against a wooden stall, but I kept fighting.

"Beadle! Restrain her!" The Judge commanded through gritted teeth once he saw that the vendor had Toby within his grasp.

"Gladly, Sir." He said, eyes lingering on me for a moment before he wrenched me harshly away from my victim. He held me against the wall, clutching my left arm tightly, his other hand around my neck menacingly. I could feel the bruises forming. The Judge let out a stream of curses as he picked himself up from the ground. I couldn't see what was going on, but I knew the vendor was lifting the cane.

It hit Toby with a large crack. He screamed the first time, and merely whimpered the second time. I could hear him try to get up and the cane crack on him again. This was too much, I couldn't take it anymore. I started to struggle, but Beadle's grip tightened on my neck. I felt his beady little eyes on my back, traveling along my figure. I could almost feel Toby's blood running down his neck. Without looking, needing only to feel it, I lifted my foot and kicked backwards, hard, at the Beadle's groin. His grip on my neck and arm relaxed as he doubled over in pain. I tried to ignore my own as I ran to Toby.

I pushed past the Judge and knocked the vendor out of the way, pulling Toby up into my arms. I rushed out of the area, running from the market and our pursuers. We were almost home free when the Judge stood right in front of me and brought me to an abrupt halt. He caught my arm and nearly crushed it as he brought my face close to his.

"We'll let you go this time, Miss Fletcher, but we will get the boy. He will stay with you no longer." Turpin hissed.

"Get out of my way, _Your Honor_!" I spat the title, flecks of spittle landing on his face. I tried to push past him, but he tightened his grip on my arm and pulled me back to face him.

"Your little stunt today put you on my blacklist. You're off the hook this time, but cross me again and I will not hesitate to try you before a jury for assault and have you imprisoned." His dark eyes met mine menacingly and I knew he was serious. I was scared, more scared than ever before in my life, looking into those dark, cold eyes, but I was determined to be strong for Toby. To get us both out of here safe.

"All right, Sir. I'll keep that in mind. Now, if you don't mind..." I started to push past him, but again he lunged for my arm. I stuck my foot out to the side of me and the Judge tripped, sprawling on the ground, getting his already dusty and stained, albeit high quality, suit even dustier.

I rushed past him and out of the market. I ran all the way home and up the stairs to my apartment, through the door, and into Toby's room. I placed him down on his bed and went into the washroom.

I splashed some water on my face and looked into the mirror. Staring back at me was my mother. Her chocolate curls were messy and unkempt, her eyes were dark with deep purple bruises beneath them. Her face was pale and gaunt. Her cheeks were red with exertion. Save for the bruises on her neck and arms, she was identical to my mother. Never before had I realized how similar I was to my mother.

I wet a cloth and took it to Toby's room. I knelt down by his side and lifted his head. There was blood from a wound on his forehead and I pressed the cloth to it. Slowly, for hours, I treated his wounds and thought about how none of this would have happened if it weren't for me.

As I cared for him I found myself humming the tune to a lullaby that Lucy and my mother had made up for me. It surprised me that I remembered it, seeing as I hadn't heard it since I was five. I remembered how Mum and Daddy used to duet it for me, and then after Daddy's death how Mr. and Mrs. Barker used to sing it to me at night.

The humming grew louder as the stars came out and Toby began to stir. I pulled him into an embrace, not wanting to let him go, knowing I had to. To my surprise and Toby's pleasure, I found myself singing the lullaby, using a singing voice I hadn't known I had.

"Nothing's gonna harm you, not while I'm around. No one's gonna hurt you, no sir, not while I'm around." I started. On an impulse I added a verse to the song.

"Demons are prowling everywhere, nowadays, I'd send 'em howling, I don't care, I've got ways.

No one's gonna hurt you, no one's gonna dare. Others may desert you, not to worry, whistle I'll be there.

Demons may charm you for a while, with their smile, but in time... Nothin' can harm you, not while I'm around...

No one's gonna hurt you, no one's gonna dare. Others may desert you, not to worry, whistle I'll be there! Demons'll charm you for a while, with their smile, but in time... Nothin' can harm you... Not while I'm around..."

I finished, tears streaming down my cheeks, as well as Toby's. He knew what we had to do. I sat there holding my adopted brother for the rest of his night, stroking his messy dark hair. I couldn't believe this would be my last night with him.

At the crack of dawn I left the sleeping Toby to pack the things he could take with him.

* * *

Cayden tried to look like a passerby on the streets of London who was not interested in the least with the small boy talking to the barber in a loud blue suit. She watched as Pirelli clasped Toby's shoulder and led him back towards the market.

She and Toby had been over his story multiple times: he was to say nothing about her, that he had been in the workhouse for the past year and not with her, and that his bruises were caused by a fight with another boy. He wanted to be a barber, and, no, he didn't have any relatives left.

As Toby walked off with Pirelli, Cayden couldn't help remembering the verses she added to her lullaby. _Demons are prowling everywhere, nowadays... Demons'll charm you for a while, with their smile..._ She saw Pirelli's too-white smile glint in the early morning light as he headed off with Toby, her little brother, and she felt a small place inside of her go hollow. At the end of the street Pirelli turned around and blew a kiss to the street and the workhouse.

Under her breath, she whispered to herself, "Meet Demon number one, Toby." With a heavy heart Cayden turned the opposite direction Toby had gone and drudged home.


	6. The Present: Worst Pies in London

**Chapter 5! Yay! I worked hard on this one... Sorry it took so long. This one is mostly Mrs. Lovett and only a little Cayden. I warn ya'll, Cayden is a bit different in this chapter... Well, you'll see. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sweeney Todd or any related characters, but the amazing Cayden Fletcher and her messed up, twisted life and all its trials and tribulations belongs to me!**

**Without further ado, Chapter 5!**

_Chapter 5_

Nellie Lovett stood behind the counter, idly rolling out the dough for her pies, which no one would eat, of course. She wasn't thinking about her pies or the customers, but looking out the window, searching. Searching for her daughter.

Each day since Benjamin left had only left a growing hollow place in her heart. First the Judge had ruined poor Lucy. Then he had taken Johanna and left Lucy no choice but to take the arsenic. Though, of course, that one had been partially her fault. She just hadn't been able to take the constant weeping and moaning. Good God, what a wimp that blond little rat had been! Really, it's not like she was the only woman in the history of the world to lose a husband to prison, justly or not. It was a shame that the arsenic hadn't killed her. Nellie couldn't have killed her herself, so she simply left her to the streets. It was that or send her to Bedlam.

Tossing poor, weak Lucy onto the street had awakened the memory of her own daughter, Rose. She had undoubtedly sent the little girl to her death in an effort to free herself for Benjamin. After he had gone, her daughter's sacrifice had been worthless and she had been alone for the past twelve years.

Every day as she worked the dough for the pies that, at the end of the day, she would merely throw out, Nellie Lovett combed the streets for her daughter with her gaze. Each time a young girl with dark curls ran past, chasing after parents, siblings, puppies, and whatnot, she felt the urge to run into the street and wrap her in a hug. Then she would remember that this was someone else's child, not Rose. Rose was as good as dead, a child could not live alone on the streets of London and survive for sixteen years. Her Rose would be twenty-one now, not five.

She felt a place inside her throb. Recently that had been a problem. Stupid conscience. Always making her feel guilty about things that couldn't be helped. Often she would see a young woman, looking much like Rose, fitting her current age and statistics perfectly. Except the eyes. Those would never be the same. Not the perfect, ever-changing eyes that enchanted whomever dared to stare into their depths.

As Mrs. Lovett looked out her window, her heart feeling as though it was caving in, she noticed a figure approaching from the direction of the shipyard. His dark hair, with a curious white streak down it just to the left of the center part, and clothes looked messy and bedraggled. As he came closer she saw his eyes. Sunken with dark circles around them, they were perfect dark brown with lighter gold flecks in them, although they were dull, as though they were sparks that were extinguished long ago. The expression on his face was pure rage and hatred, his mouth set in a determined line. He was not that tall, but he struck an imposing figure.

As he drew closer his expression faltered and vague confusion and fear lit his features. It was a mere flicker, and quite quickly the rage was back. Mrs. Lovett smiled. On unsteady legs, proving he was fresh off a boat, he headed straight towards her shop. She might get a customer today after all, and a unique one at that.

She put on her "working face" and started rolling dough as though she had been doing it all day. As he opened the door and the bell jingled, alerting a customer, she put on a genuinely surprised face. He looked as though he was going to back out of the door when she rushed at him from behind the counter and pulled him to a seat.

"Wait, wot's your rush, wot's your 'urry? Gave me such a fright I thought you was a ghost. 'Alf a minute can'tcha sit? Sit you down! Sit! All I meant is that I 'aven't seen a customer for weeks. Did you come in for a pie sir?" The words tumbled from her mouth too exuberantly, scaring the man a little. She went to the counter and dropped a pie on a plate and placed it before him. He stared at it doubtfully. She continued her cheeriness.

"Do forgive me if me 'ead's a little vague. What is that?" She mumbled, slapping a bug on the counter with her rolling pin. "But you'd think we 'ad the plague, the way the people keep avoiding. No you don't!" She scolded another bug and squished it. "'Eaven knows I try, Sir. But there's no one comes in even to inhale. Right you are, Sir, would you like a drop of ale?"

She poured the man a drink without waiting for an answer. "Mind you I can't hardly blame them, these are probably the worst pies in London. I know why no one cares to take 'em. I should know, I make 'em, but good- no!" She said matter-of-factly.

"The worst pies in London- even that's polite! The worst pies in London! If you doubt it, take a bite."

The man did as told and regretted it. A revolted expression revealed itself on his face. He tried to discreetly spit out the bits he hadn't already swallowed. He attempted to choke down some ale in a failed attempt at washing down the foul-tasting pie.

"Is that just disgusting? You 'ave to concede it. It's nothing but crusting, 'ere drink this, you'll need it." She said sadly, refilling his glass.

She went back to rolling and kneading the dough. "The worst pies in London. And no wonder with the price of meat what it is, when you get it. Never thought I'd live to see the day! Men would think it was a treat, finding poor animals wot are dying in the street."

"Mrs. Mooney has a pie shop." She started, sounding very much like a housewife passing on the day's gossip. "She does a business, but I've noticed somethin' weird: lately all her neighbors' cats 'ave disappeared. 'Ave to 'and it to her. Wot I calls enterprise: poppin' pussies into pies. Wouldn't do in my shop." She said proudly, but tiredly. "Jus' the thought of it's enough to make you sick. And I'm tellin' you, them pussy cats is quick." She sounded like she was getting out of breath just thinking about chasing a cat.

"There's no denying times is 'ard, Sir. Even 'arder than the worst pies in London. Only lard and nothin' more." She sighed. "Is that just revolting? All greasy and gritty, it looks like it's molting and tastes like..." She gave a weak smile. "Well, pity a woman alone. With limited wind. And the worst pies in London."

She sighed sadly. "Ah, Sir. Times is 'ard. Times is 'ard." She ended the cheery facade as she plotted the attack on the enemy bug scuttling along her counter. She raised her rolling pin and struck the bug with a large crack.

"You're gonna need somethin' more 'n' ale to was that down, Love." She said, taking his hand and pulling him up.

If she had bothered to look out the window as she left the other room she might have noticed a young woman the age of twenty-one staring in with strange eyes. She might have noticed her daughter, and if she had looked close enough, she may have noticed the tears in her daughter's eyes. But as Nellie led her guest into her parlor all thoughts of Rose had been pushed away.

She smiled as she pulled him into the other room. She was glad to have him back. He was paler now, true. Eyes darker, hair grayer, smiles and laugh and love and light replaced by smirks and snarls and hate and darkness, but he was still the same. No doubt the years had changed him, but who had they not touched. The important thing was that he was back. Her favorite barber had returned to Fleet Street. She still had to make sure with one last thing, but she knew it was him. Benjamin Barker.

I looked sadly as Mrs. Lovett turned with the customer and left the shop for another part of the home. I felt tears burning behind my eyes, but I wouldn't let them break free. I would not cry.

For a moment, my eyes and Nellie's had met, just a moment more and she would have recognized me. Maybe we would have found each other and I could live with her, help her out in the shop. Wait, did I _want_ that? No, I didn't, I decided after a moment. But still, it would be nice to know she felt guilty about what she did. I wanted to know she cared ,and more than anything I wanted to forgive her.

I sighed and slid down the wall I was leaning against. I gritted my teeth as the bricks scraped against my bare neck. If my mother had taken just a few more seconds she would have seen me. I would have a chance to forgive her. But she had blown me off for her customer, and left without a backwards glance.

My life was so hard. It was impossible, and so little good had come of it. Was living worth the pain? Every day, waiting here, hoping my mother would see me and we would reconcile. Always disappointed. Every day, watching Lucy wander the streets alone. I could have given her a home. If I tried more, she would be herself again, she wouldn't be all alone and confused. Every day, watching Toby work for that Pirelli, watching him get beaten and abused. Watching the pain and hope in his eyes mingle as the blood runs from his fingers. Knowing it was all my fault. I couldn't take it anymore!

I felt the presence of my knife in my jacket pocket, where I always kept it, just in case I needed it. I lifted it from my pocket and held the shining blade to my face. One slash, one cut, in the right place... and it would be over. The pain, the suffering, the disappointment, the knowledge that it was her fault. It would all go away. All she had to do was bring it down on her arm...

As I thought it my hand started shaking. My reflection quivered in the knife's blade, held high before me. I lowered the knife, replacing it in my pocket. I couldn't do it. I couldn't kill myself and leave my friends to face these hardships alone. If they faced them, I would be there, like a viper, waiting for my chance to strike. I would free my friends from what they faced and I would exact my revenge on the Judge, the Beadle, Pirelli, and Mum.

I looked up as my mother and the stranger left her shop and headed up the stairs to the Barker's apartment. Mum walked right in, leaving the stranger on the landing. He was about to head inside when he turned around and appeared to stare me straight in the eye.

I shuddered. His eyes were deep brown, almost black, boring into me. His dark hair had a curious white streak through it. His mood was dark and vengeful, mixed with rage. It was obvious in his stance, but when he looked into my eyes, I felt the pain in them behind the rage.

"Mr. T!" I heard my mother's voice ring out from the apartment. He tore his gaze from mine and stalked into the apartment. I couldn't stop thinking of the pain and rage I had seen in that man's eyes. Only a few things I could think of would supply enough pain for that. I didn't want to think of any of them.

I sat there for hours, shaking from the man's pain, my own pain, my guilt over what had befallen those I cared for, and the shame over actually contemplating suicide. I finally let the burning behind my eyes free and the tears coursed down my cheeks, warm and salty. I hugged my knees and shook, thinking, feeling, mourning, letting the tears wash away my pain.

**All right, what did ya'll think? I know you're not really used to Cayden being all angsty, but if you think about it, she must have some serious angst behind that happy facade. If you don't like it, just let me know, and she won't be angsty anymore. I just thought I'd try it.**

**Thanks to all my loyal reviewers, few as you may be. 'wink wink, nudge nudge' Love you guys! Keep reading as more shows up. **


	7. The Present: The Contest

**Hey everyone! Sorry it took so long for me to put this up. I kept getting distracted. Also, this is a long chapter! Sorry! More Sweeney Todd, though! And he talks this time! Also, a new character is introduced! Some romance is introduced towards the end, so keep your eyes peeled for that!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sweeney Todd. I do, however, own the amazingness that is Rose (and Derek, but you'll see).**

**Without further ado: Chapter 6, the amazingly long chapter! Try 8 pages...**

_Chapter 6_

I was in my bedroom, looking at my eyes in my mirror. Yes, it sounds weird, and it was. But every morning I looked in my mirror to see what color my eyes were each day. If they were brown, it was average, if they were grey, it was going to be a bad day, if they were brown with green streaks, it was going to be a nice, normal day, and if they were bluish, it was going to be unusual.

This day, they were green: that meant that it was going to be a great day. That confused me, because I was going to go and visit Toby today, which never ended well. By visit, it really meant that I was going to Pirelli's stand and making sure Toby was still around and well out of the clutches of the Beadle and his master.

I shook my head and quickly tied my hair back with a deep purple ribbon. I shrugged on a jacket and hurried out the door and towards the market.

The market was crowded with people out bargain hunting. I shoved my way over towards Pirelli's stage and was in about the middle of the crowd of people when Toby entered from behind the curtain, the ridiculous blond wig on his head, covered by a cheap hat, pounding a drum and strutting around the stage.

I found a spot with a decent view of Toby and his whereabouts next to a couple, though they stuck out as they were quite obviously not nearly as old as most in the crowd. The man muttered something to the woman, though her face was obscured.

"Pirelli is 'is name. Aye-talian, 'e is." I said nonchalantly to the man, hearing his question. He raised his dark eyebrows at me, in stark contrast to the ghostly pallor of his face, and turned away to face the stage once more. He had asked the woman next to him who Pirelli was, quite politely, though his voice said he was offended by something or other and was slightly amused by Toby.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, may I have your attention, puh-lease!" Toby announced, beginning his all too familiar elixir-selling campaign that also served as an introduction for Pirelli. "Do you wake every morning in shame and despair to discover your pillow is covered with hair, something what not should be there?" A few guilty eyes dropped to the floor, and others tried to laugh, though it sounded choked.

"Well, Ladies and Gentlemen, from now on you can waken at ease! You need never again have a worry or care, I will show you a miracle, marvelous rare! Well, Ladies and Gentlemen, allow me to show you somethin' that rose from the dead... On the top of my head!"

A chorus of raucous laughter followed the removal of his hat, revealing the blond wig that covered his gorgeous dark hair, which had unceremoniously been chopped far too short, and unevenly at that. Some barber Pirelli was.

Toby discarded his drum and extracted a small vial filled with yellow liquid and held it out to the crowd, allowing them to gaze at it in wonder, though it didn't stay still for any length of time.

" 'T 'was Pirelli's miracle elixir, that's what did the trick, Sir! True, Sir, true! Was it quick, Sir? Did it in a tick, Sir! Just like an elixir ought to do." He tossed a bottle into the middle of the crowd to be passed around and then rushed over towards a bald man at the edge of the stage.

" How about a bottle, Mister? Only costs a penny guaranteed." He poured some of the yellow liquid onto the man's head, and lifted his hand, rubbing his bald head with the stuff. "Does Pirelli's stimulate the growth, Sir? You can 'ave my oath, Sir. 'Tis unique."

The man took his hand from his head and sniffed, making a face. Toby made the man continue to rub, pulling his hand away from his nose. "Rub a minute, stimulatin' i'n't it? Soon you'll have to thin it once a week!" Toby continued cheerily.

The strange man next to me turned and asked me, "Pardon me, Ma'am, what's that awful stench?" His eyes connected with mine, I spotted the white streak in his hair and recognized him as the strange, tortured man from Mrs. Lovett's shop.

"Are we standing near an open trench?" My Mum's voice asked innocently from his other side. The man looked from me to Mrs. Lovett, obviously confused. His thoughts were written all over his face: _Weren't you over there?_ Before he could turn and look back at me I turned and melted into the crowd, though still within earshot of them. I kept my eyes on Toby, who looked disgruntled with the interruption, to keep from hyperventilating.

They repeated their questions innocently to each other, though I could see a wild light of joy in the man's eyes as he sabotaged Pirelli, and in a subtle way, too!

"Buy Pirelli's Miracle Elixir, anything what's slick, Sir, soon sprouts curls! Try Pirelli's when they see how thick, Sir, you can have your pick, Sir, of the girls!" Toby continued, despite them. "Wanna buy a bottle, Missus?" He asked an unfortunate woman standing too close to the stage.

By then the bottle being passed around for inspection had reached Mrs. Lovett and her guest. He opened a bottle and sniffed.

"What is this?"

"What is this?" Mum repeated.

"Smells like piss." He stated, sniffing again. He held it to Mrs. Lovett.

"Smells like- Ew!!" She was caught by surprise at the acrid smell. Despite myself, I laughed. Finally someone else noticed what this stuff really was!!

"What is this? This is piss. Piss with ink." The man said, holding the bottle to the light and examining it.

"Wouldn't touch it if I was you, dear." She addressed another man standing near her, casting an aside glance at the bottle.

I had to admire Toby: he was still trying to get them to buy the ghastly stuff. "Let Pirelli's activate your roots, Sir."

"Keep it off your boots, Sir, eats right through!" The man advised someone standing near him.

"Yes, get Pirelli's! Ladies seem to love it!" He exclaimed, desperately trying to maintain the interest of the treasonous crowd, all of whom were muttering about how Pirelli's was piss.

"Flies do too." Mrs. Lovett said, sounding bored. I smiled, thinking that she was right, glad that Pirelli was being exposed. Then my face fell. Losing this crowd would mean a beating for Toby.

Suddenly Pirelli leapt from behind the curtain, knocking Toby harshly out of the way, turning to the crowd with more than mild displeasure on his face.

"I am Adolpho Pirelli, The King of the Barbers, the Barber of Kings, I blow you a kiss. And I, the so famous Pirelli wishes to know who has-a the nerve-a to say that my elixir is piss! Who says this?" He spat menacingly, glowering at the crowd. The all shrunk beneath his gaze. I turned to look at the man who'd started it all.

He looked up at the stage and Pirelli, and, after a moment's consideration he stepped forward. "I do." All eyes flew to him. "I have opened a bottle of Pirelli's Elixir, and I say to you it is nothing but an errant fraud concocted from piss and ink." Pirelli's eyes seemed to fly out of their sockets.

"Signor Pirelli. I am Mr. Sweeney Todd, I have personally opened a bottle of Pirelli's Elixir and am here to tell you that it is an errant fraud, concocted from piss and ink. Furthermore, I have serviced no kings, but I wager that I can shave a cheek with ten times the dexterity of any street mountebank." He said indicating Pirelli, who curled his lip in a little snarl. Mr. Todd pulled two fine silver razors from holsters on either side of his hips. "See these razors? I weigh them against five pound that you are no match for me. Either accept my challenge or expose yourself as a sham." Pirelli drew close, examining the razor, then a slow smile spread across Pirelli's features.

"See this foolish man. Now please you will see how you will regret your folly. Toby!" Pirelli called, stomping his fine cane on the ground. He grandly threw off his cape and tossed it in the corner. Toby rushed up the steps toward his master.

"Who wants a free shave?" Mr. Todd asked the crowd in his gravely voice, sending shivers up my spine. The crowd, however, was oblivious to the malicious sparkle in his eye and the viciousness in his smile, and all the men responded excitedly. He and Pirelli each pointed to a man in turn and beckoned them onstage. Toby dragged on a rickety chair for Sweeney's customer while Pirelli's sat in a plush, comfy chair.

"Will Beadle Bamford be the judge?" Mr. Todd asked.

"Glad, as always, to be of assistance to my friends and neighbors." The Beadle replied slimily. I stood in the crowd, wishing I could run, but spellbound, destined to bear witness to the outcome of the contest. The other people in the crowd wanted to watch, not caring which barber won. They all thought Mr. Todd was just another innocent, rogue-ish barber trying to get known by the public. But they hadn't seen the expression on his face as he had spoken of the Beadle. They hadn't seen the murderous light come into his eyes as he asked the seemingly innocent question. But I knew what he was and what he meant with that look, and I was doomed to see it all. Much as I wished I could, I couldn't leave. I was frozen by the gleaming silver of his razors as the contest began.

Sweeney Todd spent a long moment deciding which of his two razors he'd brought with him to use. He'd brought the same two he had always worn at his side in the holsters, even as Benjamin Barker. Even when his life had been so different.

From a distance the pieces of sharp silver looked identical, but if someone got close enough, they would notice that the embossed patterns on the razors were different. One had a heart in the center, caressed by tendrils of raised silver, carefully overlapping and intertwining with it and with each other. The razor he had always used back when he was Ben. The razor for smiles, laughs, love, and light.

The other one was the exact opposite. Somehow in a darker shade of silver, almost black, the pattern had a raised silver heart, with conspicuous pieces missing. A thick, thorny vine circled it, choking it, puncturing it and causing pain. A bolt of lightning struck the heart dead center. Just like his own pain, exactly where the destruction of the heart started was unclear, but the source was obvious. This razor was for smirks, snarls, hate, and darkness. He had never used this razor before.

He had always carried the two opposites together on each side of him, they made him feel balanced. Now though, they felt like a struggle. Finally he selected his old favorite razor. _After all,_ he thought, _I doubt I'll ever have the opportunity to use this one again._

He stepped up and spread the white smock over his customer. He looked nonchalantly at his opponent who spread a smock decorated with the colors of the Italian flag over his own client.

"Ready?" The Beadle asked.

"Ready." Pirelli chirped.

"Ready." Sweeney said gruffly, a dark smile twitching at his lips.

"The fastest, smoothest shave is the winner." The Beadle trilled a little whistle to begin.

Pirelli twirled his razor, showing off, then checked his smile in its shimmering metal surface. Satisfied, he turned to where Toby was standing and took the other side of the razor sharpening belt and ran his razor quickly and harshly along the belt, cutting Toby's knuckles as it came to the end. He repeated this over and over again, causing the boy's fingers to run with blood as he bit his lower lip in an effort not to cry out.

Sweeney slowly and carefully sharpened his razor, checking every once in a while to make sure he hadn't damaged it in any way, checking its sharpness.

"Now Signorini, Signori, we mix-a da lather, but first-a you gather." Pirelli addressed the audience, hastily mixing the lather and applying it to the man's face. "Around Signorini, Signori. You looking a man who has had-a da pleasure to shave-a da Pope." He turned towards Mr. Todd. "Mr. Sweeney, whoever, I beg-a da pardon, you'll probably say-a it was only a cardinal. Nope! It was-a da Pope!" Toby unfurled a picture of the Pope, apparently having been signed by the pope, thanking Pirelli for the great shave.

"To shave-a da face! To cut-a da hair require a grace, and it require da flair." He said, beginning. Toby wiped his razor clean. "For if-a you slip you nick da skin, you clip-a da chin and rip-a da lip a bit beyond-a repair!"

"To shave-a da face, or even a part, without it-a smart require da heart. Not just-a da flash. It take-a panache. It take-a da passion for da art."

Sweeney put away the belt and blew on his razor, examining it before putting it aside. Slowly and with care he began to mix the lather and apply it carefully to his client's face.

"To shave-a da face. To trim-a da beard. To make-a da bristle, clean like a whistle! This is from early infancy da talent give-a to me by God." Pirelli paused to make the sign of the cross with his razor before continuing.

"It take-a da skill. It take-a da brains. It take-a da will to take-a da pains! It take-a the pace. It take-a da grace!"

As Pirelli was distracted with communicating to the audience, Sweeney shaved his client with seven quick strokes. He wiped his razor clean and was done with it before Pirelli turned back to face his own customer.

"The winner is Todd!" Beadle announced loudly to a chorus of applause. Mrs. Lovett clapped with a proud look on her face.

"Sir, I bow to a skill far greater than my own." Pirelli congratulated Sweeney from behind.

"The five pound?" Sweeney asked, blunt and to the point. Pirelli made a face but produced the money.

"May the good Lord smile upon you." But Sweeney had already started walking towards Mrs. Lovett and the Beadle.

"Mr. Todd." The Beadle greeted. "Strange, Sir, but it seems your face is known to me."

Sweeney opened his mouth to respond when Mrs. Lovett came to his rescue. "Him? Tha's a laugh! Seein' as he's me brother's cousin and having arrived from Birmingham only yesterday." She frowned slightly as she realized just how pathetic her excuse was.

"And yet I have already heard the Beadle spoken of with such respect." Sweeney coaxed.

"And your shop? Above Mrs. Lovett's on Fleet Street?"

"That is it, yes."

"Then you shall surely see me before the week's out."

"Excellent." He smiled. "You will be welcome Beadle Bamford, and I will guarantee you, without a penny's charge, the closest shave you will ever know."

As he and Mrs. Lovett began to walk away, he caught the eye of the strange girl he had mistaken for Mrs. Lovett earlier. The look in her eyes frightened him: the look said she knew.

As Mr. Todd put away his razor I caught a glimpse of the pattern on the handle in a rare flash of London sunlight. A heart with thin tendrils of silver caressing it. I had seen that before, only one place before. Suddenly the pieces fell into place. He'd shaved that man so simply, in a way that only one barber could do it. To others, those facts would mean nothing, but right then to me they meant the world. Even more than the way Pirelli was no doubt beating Toby right this moment. Most people, even if it mattered, would overlook all of this, not recognizing it.

Not me. It was impossible to miss. It was impossible to forget the man who had adopted me like his own daughter, acting as a father to me. I had watched him expertly shave a man from the bench in the corner, sitting next to his apprentice, for too many hours to forget his technique. Had listened to him explain the patterns on his razors too carefully to forget what they meant. _This one means smiles, laughs, light and love._ His voice spoke to me, a reminder from the past. _This one is its opposite. Smirks, snarls, hate and darkness. Both are needed to feel balanced._

I never forgot my stand-in father. I never once forgot Benjamin Barker. His absence had changed him, darkened him. His was the pain that had washed over me the day before. Now Ben had returned. He had come back and was in the clutches of my mother once again. And the razor he had kissed before he had put it away was the one he'd said he'd never use. The one for hate and darkness.

I rushed away from the crowd surrounding Pirelli's, the crowd parting. The market in London was formed around familiarity. People rarely broke from their routine. My rushing from Pirelli's, tears in my eyes, had become commonplace in the market, and people ignored me as much as they ignored poor Toby's pain.

People stood in about the same places as always, doing the same things. I had long ago memorized the patterns of the city. I dashed between open spaces, leaving the populace undisturbed. As I reached the edges of the marketplace, there was something different. A palpable electricity in the air that was completely out of the ordinary. The people were buzzing, gossiping with each other about something that had them energized beyond the norm, not just the usual gossip between housewives. Any other day I would have noticed it, I would have been confused and wanted to know what was going on. But today I was busy. Distracted as I was, I took no notice until I ran right into the source. Quite literally.

I had almost reached the end of the market square when I tumbled into a presence that most certainly didn't belong where it stood. It was out of the flow. It didn't belong.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am. Didn't see you there." He helped me up off the ground. I looked up at him and smiled. His dark hair flopped in front of his face. He brushed it gently out of his eyes, revealing them to be a bright, energetic green. He stuck out his hand in greeting. "I am Constable Derek Fleet. And who might you be?" He asked, taking on an entirely different tone to his voice as I brushed aside my locks, revealing my own bright green eyes.

I thought about giving him my standard introduction, _there will be none of this 'Ma'am' nonsense. My name is Cayden Fletcher, of Fleet Street._ Instead I introduced myself as I hadn't in a long while.

"My name is Rose Lovett." I breathed in a sharp intake of breath. Recognizing my mistake, I tried to amend it. "But, if you please, Constable Fleet, I would appreciate it if you would call me Cayden Fletcher in public." Great. Now I'd only succeeded in making him think I was weird. Or, more likely, daft. His quizzical expression led to another attempt at amends. "Uh... My Mum and I don't get along, and I don't want 'er to know I'm 'ere. Not through the grapevine at the very least."

Constable Fleet nodded at this and smiled, taking my bag of pens and paper that I'd dropped and shouldering it. We headed off towards Fleet Street together.

"All right, Rose. Might I ask what do you do for a living? And do you live alone?"

"Yes, you may ask, though I cannot guarantee an answer. And yes, I live alone, though that seems a mighty personal question to ask, and slightly creepy to do so."

He laughed at my joke and admitted that, yes, it was sort of creepy and he apologized for that: it was not intended. We cut through Hyde Park instead of going the quick way home. Eventually I conceded and told him that I was a seamstress.

"But I love to write, especially poetry." I gasped as I realized I said that one out loud. Why was I being so honest with him?

He smiled radiantly. "I would love to hear some, Rose. Though I assume you have something else to do..."

"No." I laughed gently at the obvious invitation. "But now would not be a good time for me. Let's just walk on home."

He looked crestfallen, but as we continued to talk, he draped his arm nonchalantly over my shoulders. I was appalled at the nerve of him. I wanted to tell him that I had no interest in him beyond a friendship, that I wanted him to get his arm off of me and leave me alone. Instead I said something that had been bothering me for a while, even before the Arm Incident.

"You have a strange accent. Where are you from?"

He smiled at me and pulled a strand of curls back behind my ear. Oddly, I enjoyed his touch, though I wished he would stop taking liberties with me.

"I was sent from New York to help assist London with the care of its people. Help uphold the law." He said proudly. I cringed at the word "law".

"What's wrong, Rose?" He asked, worried that he had said the wrong thing.

" The _law_ is corrupt. Horribly so. You can't uphold something that was smashed to smithereens decades ago." I replied, leaning into him as I thought of examples.

He had a puzzled look on his face, that said quite clearly to me that he had an idealist's image of the law and the police force. That was why his superiors had sent the young constable to London: to put his world in perspective.

"Well, Rose. I suppose that's true. But there's nothing to say that I can't help rebuild the law." I drew back, looking up at him. His green eyes met mine, sending a jolt of electricity between us. In his eyes was such a look of understanding. He could help me. _Forget Mr. Todd, go back for Toby later. Now is for you._ A voice in my head whispered to me. My breathing grew fast and short, anticipating what would come next.

Derek leaned closer to me, and I came closer to him in response. He brought his lips close to my ear and whispered, "We can rebuild the foundation of London, Rose. Together. End corruption. We will fix the law, Rose, and we shan't be judged for it." He pulled back and I looked up at him, meeting his calm but sure gaze, which was now sparked with energy and nervous expectation. He started to come close to me, bringing his lips to meet mine.

And then I remembered. _Corruption? Law? Judge? Johanna!_ I pulled away, just before our lips met. I took my bag from him. He looked, disappointed, angry, sad, apologetic, and embarrassed as I started to turn away. I turned back to him briefly, deciding that an explanation was owed.

"I'm sorry, Derek. I forgot about a meeting with a friend that I had planned for a good while now." I looked at the horizon, deciding that there was another hour until the sun began to set. I turned to go when Derek stopped me again.

"Rose. Will I be seeing you again soon?"

"Yes. You will definitely be seeing me again soon." I smiled and gave him my address. As I sprinted to Johanna's, I felt a strange warmth surge through me as I pictured the young Constable's face in my head. I smiled as I realized why my eyes had been green today, and decided that today had most definitely been an excellent day.

**So, how did ya'll like it? I had fun writing it, if that counts for anything. Derek is extremely important to the story, so I hope you like him (Rose does). I'm bad at writing romance, so there will be precious few of those unless I change my mind. Which is possible. Please keep reading. Next chapter: The sweet, naïve, overly optimistic, slightly stalkerish, in love sailor boy... Anthony Hope! And Johanna... whose cool, I guess. Also, learn about the origin of the Green Finch and Linnet Bird song! ( No it did not come from Johanna's tortured and trapped subconscious. Not directly, anyway...)**

**Enjoy my story! And please review!**


	8. The Present: Johanna's Rose

**Hey, you guys, I'm back! I know, I've abandoned this story since APRIL!! I'm sorry! But Anthony has arrived! I know that in the movie the Johanna scene came before the market, but this works better for me! Please read it!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sweeney Todd or any of the characters in it, or the lyrics to Green Finch and Linnet Bird. Deal! Oh! But I shall own his razors! And whoever does Mrs. Lovett's hair!**

_Chapter 7_

I stashed my bag in one of the many thick decorative shrubs along the gate of the Turpin House Garden. I picked up my notebook and headed to the gate. I grinned, noting that the Judge had yet to replace the lock on the garden gate. It was locked sure enough, but that was easily remedied. I jiggled the lock three times and kicked the edge of the gate twice before the padlock snapped open and the dead-bolt on the other side slid free.

I entered the overly lush garden. It always made me feel like I was in a jungle. I strolled to where I knew Johanna's window was and started to climb the trellis. The roses had begun to climb up the trellis and I had to climb carefully to avoid stabbing my palms on the thorns as I climbed toward Johanna's windowsill. I always felt odd here on the windowsill, feeling very visible but knowing that I couldn't be seen because of the hedges, though the main part of Johanna's window was plainly visible. I tapped on the window three times and waited for her to appear.

A few months back, whilst talking to Lucy, I decided that I would try to revitalize my promise to take care of Johanna since no one else could. I had figured out a way to get into the garden and Johanna and I had grown very close. I would write poems for her and she would put them to music. That was what I envied her for, and nothing else. I liked my hair, though, being chocolate and not gold it would have much fewer admirers, and I adored my eyes, so blue was not a color I desired. Oh, but to sing like Johanna! I didn't have a bad voice and it was pleasing to the ear despite my near-cockney accent (yet another horrid trait inherited from my mother). But Johanna had been taught music. She could play piano, and read music, or set any words to music. I had her there, though. She was at a loss for words. Last time we met we had conspired to write a song that described her and so I had written a poem that was Johanna and her plight completely and totally.

Johanna opened the window and smiled at me.

"Rose!" I winced at the name, still unused to it. Johanna was the only person, until quite recently, to whom I had revealed my real first name. My last name, as far as she was concerned, was Fletcher.

"Rose, how nice to see you again. Do you want to come in?" She always asked, good natured and polite. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were bright with excitement, she knew why I had come. I shook my head no. I had never entered the Turpin house and had no intention to.

"Johanna, I brought it." I grinned, waving my notebook in the air. Her smile lighted up even brighter, something that amazed me she could do still, trapped in this house as she was.

"Let me see!" She begged, casting off her lady-like politeness. I tore out the sheet of paper in my notebook that the poem was written on. I handed it to her. She took it gently like it was some holy script, she'd always thought too much of my writing, and bent her head to study it closer, causing her golden hair to fall in front of her face.

I tucked the golden locks behind her ear, and she cast me a grateful glance. It helped to have a friend around for her, and having Johanna around was finally giving me the feeling of having a little sister I'd always hoped for from her. Finally she finished looking it over and looked up at me, her eyes shining.

"This is... perfect, Rose. It describes me perfectly." Inwardly I breathed a major sigh of relief. I had been afraid that she would be offended by the words. I'd taken some creative liberties and used a lot of metaphors. Foolishly, I'd also feared that Johanna wouldn't have understood it. The girl wasn't so naïve, she knew the situation she was in. She was, in fact, despite her wealth and apparent position, a caged bird.

I wanted to hug her and tell her all this, and to tell my adopted younger sister about Derek, but instead I merely said, "Go ahead and pair that with the pretty song you wrote last week. I wrote it with the music in mind." I grinned and waited for her to begin.

Johanna cleared her throat and was about to start when she paled.

"Oh, Rose, there are so many people out there, what if they hear me?"

Johanna was fantastic at singing, but horribly shy. I felt bad for her. As soon as she caught sight of the couples strolling down the sidewalk and the carriages rolling down the cobblestones she paled, her eyes grew wide, her cheeks flushed, and her knees quaked. I placed a hand on her shoulder comfortingly.

"Don't worry, no one can hear you from down there." It was only half a lie. No one could hear us speak from down there, especially Johanna's soft voice. But as quiet as Johanna was when speaking, her singing voice was so clear that it would be heard from the ground even through a closed window. "Besides, look, the streets are clearing out."

It was true, the only ones left on the street were a lost looking sailor attempting to read a map of the city on a bench across the street and a beggar woman. Lucy! What was she doing here, by the Judge's house? Here, of all places! Of course, to watch her daughter! But, this was too dangerous. Though, as long as the bloody judge didn't come out and recognize her...

"Go ahead, Johanna, sing! You know you can do it, and I'll be right 'ere with you." She smiled and I moved to adjust my position on the windowsill. My hands slipped as I moved though, and I slid down the trellis, scraping my palms against the wood. I winced as thorns on the roses stabbed my already raw palms. I let out a little yelp as I tightly gripped a vine thick with thorns to stop my fall. I was halfway down the trellis.

"Rose! Are you all right?" Johanna called down to me, a concerned look on her face.

"I'm fine, Johanna. You go ahead and sing, I'll be right down here. Ow!" I winced as I accidentally dug the thorns deeper into my palms. I lifted one hand from the trellis and gasped at the damage the roses had done. Who would have thought that something so beautiful could cause so much pain? A single drop of blood landed on one of the roses, dripping down the petals, matching the red perfectly. Once I could no longer see it, I forced myself to climb just a few feet up to escape the roses, but remained out of sight on the trellis. I smiled encouragingly to Johanna. She grinned back, took a deep breath, and began to sing our song.

"Green Finch and linnet bird,

Nightingale, blackbird,

How is it you sing?

How can you jubilate?

Sitting in cages, never taking wing!

Outside the sky waits,

beckoning, beckoning,

just beyond the bars.

How can you remain

staring at the rain,

maddened by the stars?

How is it you sing- anything?

How is it you sing?"

Johanna sighed and took a moment to breathe and look out on the street before her. She looked up and her eyes locked with the sailor on the street. He was looking up at her in complete awe. I half expected Johanna to become enraged with me that I lied and someone had heard. But she was enthralled by the sailor's appearance. She seemed to want to explain her plight to him, so she continued, to my surprise.

"My cage has many rooms

damask and dark.

Nothing there sings, not even my lark.

Larks never will, you know,

when they're captive.

Teach me to be more adaptive.

Ah..."

She improvised.

"Green Finch and linnet bird,

Nightingale, blackbird,

teach me how to sing!"

She gazed longingly first at the sailor, then up at the sky, then back again.

"If I cannot fly...

Let me sing..."

The boy on the ground smiled and Johanna looked gratefully at me. "Thanks, Rose." She closed the window and retreated into her luxurious cage.

I untangled myself from the roses and carefully climbed down the trellis, staining the whitewashed wood red with blood. I sighed and left the garden, turning to run straight for my apartment to get first aid, and ran right into the sailor.

"Sorry." I mumbled, trying to hide my hands.

"Excuse me, Miss?" The boy asked.

I turned and realized that the sailor could not have been a day over 18.

"Yes?"

"Um, do you know how to get to this address?" He showed me an address written in a notebook. "My mother moved since I last returned home, and I've not been successful in finding it.."

I peered at the address and sighed.

"You're on the wrong side of town, for certain. If you've got money on you take a carriage." I looked at his expression and decided that another option was definitely necessary. "It'll be a long walk, but head down this street take a right, then a left, and keep going till you see... well, once the orphans in the street aren't there anymore."

Unconsciously I pointed in the direction and he paled at the sight of the blood.

"Sorry! Fell on a... on something sharp. Just head that way." I withdrew my hand and clutched it to my chest protectively.

"Oh, my name is Anthony, by the way, Miss."

"Cayden Fletcher, nice to meet you, Anthony." Anthony didn't press for details.

"Isn't London wonderful?" Anthony asked, his voice full of awe as he looked around at the towers and turrets around him. "It's been so long since I've seen it... I have sailed the world, beheld its wonders, from the Dardanelles to the mountains of Peru." He whispered. "But there's no place like London!"

"No, there's no place like London!" I smirked, glaring at the ground. I kicked a rock venomously. Suddenly Anthony exploded with anger beside me.

"What is it with you people and hating London?! First Mr. Todd, now you! What is this world coming to? London is a wonderful place! I've always loved it..." He took a deep breath and looked up at me. "Sorry. I shouldn't have done that, but why do you hate London so much?"

"You are lucky. Fate has been good to you. You will learn..." I sighed and looked at him. "I have seen too much cruelty on these streets for my lifetime."

"Like what?" Anthony asked skeptically.

"Lets start off by saying that there was a girl named Rose. Also a baker, her mother, and her husband, though he died before this story started, really." I paused.

"Anyone else?" Anthony's attention was fully on me.

"A barber. A barber by the name of Benjamin barker, and his wife, Lucy. They're important too."

"There was a barber and his wife, and they were good to Rose. A proper artist with a knife, treated her like 'is own, and they were good to her. And they were virtuous. And they were... happy. Somethin' kin to a sin on Fleet Street." I added in a murmur, but Anthony caught it and paled.

"What happened?" He asked it like a child listening to a suspenseful bedtime story might. At this point he was sitting on the bench looking up at me and I joined him on the hard wooden slats.

"A Judge thought that he deserved the wife. So he ruined their good life. And the barber was sent away! Then there was nothing but to wait and she should fall, so kind, so good, so lost and oh so innocent!"

"Did she fall?"

"No. And _that_ is what ruined her. What she would not give the Judge decided to take." Luckily Anthony wasn't so naïve that I needed to explain further. "Johanna would be her daughter."

"What about the girl? Rose, you said?"

"Ah, yes. Her."

"There was this child you see, cute little thing, silly little nit, had a chance to be so happy. Poor thing. There was her mum, yeh see. Angry at the girl, blamed her for all her misery. Poor thing. Ah, but there was worse yet to come, poor thing.

Her mother calls her downstairs one night, poor thing, poor thing. Said, 'Come see the stars tonight.' Poor thing, poor thing. Of course, when she goes out, poor thing, poor thing, its raining like mad with no stars. Her mother just yells, poor dear, poor thing. She knows not what's happenin', poor thing, she wonders what its all about.

She'd find out, all right, that her mum's not so nice. She pushed her into the street, poor thing, and tried to leave her behind. She wasn't no match for such craft, you see, so she lay there to die in the streets, poor thing. Poor soul, poor thing."

I found that tears had clouded my vision. I turned away so Anthony wouldn't see them and tried to keep my voice from cracking.

"Her mother left her there without a single glance back. Left an innocent five year-old in the gutter. A five year-old who loved her Mum more than anything else in the world..."

"And her mother, Cayden? Did she feel sorry for what she did to Rose?" Anthony was trapped in the story. So easy he was to enchant.

"Ah, that was many years ago." I tried and failed miserably to keep my voice from cracking. "I doubt if anyone would know..."

Anthony and I stood up and stared out at the Judge's house in silence for a while before Anthony gathered his things.

"Well, I suppose I should be on my way, thank you for the directions and the story, Miss Cayden. But, she was beautiful, and her voice..."

I knew he was talking about Johanna. Who else? Every young man who passed this way was enchanted by her. Why not? She was amazing. I just nodded and smiled. I had to admit, I envied Johanna a little bit for all her suitors, no one had ever shown an interest in me... Well, except Derek, earlier today, but I had scared him off, I'm sure.

The sailor started to turn away when the door to the Judge's mansion opened and the Judge beckoned him inside. "You! Sailor! Come in here, boy."

I sighed: he was doomed. Lucy and I had seen it all before. They went in hopeful and came out covered in blood. I felt bad for Anthony. He was so sweet and kind and had such an idealist's view of the world, not unlike Derek (though Derek, being a constable, was a full twenty-five years old). He was so naïve he just was attracted to Johanna and now he was going to get beaten for it.

For most of the suitors who walked in there I just walked away without a second thought. I should have done that here and almost did, when I remembered how much he seemed to care about Rose in the story. My life. Anthony was different. So I turned around and waited near the back of the house for my chance to strike like the idiot that I was. A self-righteous idiot! But, if that was so, why didn't I leave?

I almost left five times before the Beadle tossed Anthony onto the street, his face bloody and his eyes wide and frightened. The Beadle looked up sharply in my direction and I shrunk back further behind the crate that might once have contained food, maybe transported chickens, either way, it was now on the rubbish heap.

The Beadle brought the cane down on Anthony with a sharp crack. Anthony yelped and tried to get up only to be brought back down with another crack. The Beadle kept hitting Anthony, a sick expression that said he enjoyed it on his face. The Judge walked up behind him and grinned. The Beadle stopped with the cane and the Judge tossed Anthony's bag roughly onto his back. They smirked contemptuously as he rolled over onto his stomach and spat blood onto the concrete.

"And don't come back!" The Judge smiled along with the Beadle. They were _enjoying_ his pain! I couldn't stand it!

"What the hell do you think you're doing? He never did a thing to you!" I stepped out of my hiding place, not really thinking things through.

The Beadle grinned. " I suggest you clear the area, Miss. Things might get a little rough and we don't want your pretty little face all bloodied up."

The Judge chimed in. "Step back and let us finish our work here, Miss. Just pretend you never saw a thing."

I stepped between them and the injured sailor. "As much as I would like to forget your repulsive faces and the violence I've seen here, I can't do that." I grinned at the shocked expressions on their faces. Then the Judge glowered.

"Move aside." He growled.

His eyes bored into mine and I nearly moved. I looked behind me to where Anthony lay, looking up at me. I wasn't moving, not until Anthony was far away. "Make me."

The Judge narrowed his eyes for a moment then dismissed me with a wave of his hand. "Beadle, deal with this riffraff. I need to speak with Johanna." I paled. Everyone knew that the Judge eventually planned to marry his pretty ward, but she was only sixteen for God's sake!

He turned to leave and I gripped the edge of his sleeve, pulling him back. "Leave Johanna alone."

He pushed me back. "Get off of me, you brat. What goes on between me and Johanna is my business." He started to head down the hall. I didn't think, I just knew that Anthony and Johanna didn't deserve what they were getting.

I launched myself at him, bowling him over. I clawed at his face and forgot about my bloodied hands. Soon his face was covered in blood, some of which was his own (I had fairly sharp nails). This time I had the upper hand. Appalled at the blood on my hands and the viciousness with which I attacked him he didn't move. I clutched his throat in my hands, my knee jammed into his chest.

He looked away from my bloodied hands long enough to catch my eyes. He was shocked at them and his eyes widened.

"You!" He hissed. "That bitch Cayden Fletcher who attacked me at the market!"

"The one and only." I smiled, I guess it wasn't everyday that a girl with chocolate curls and strange eyes attacked you, so I suppose it was something worth remembering.

"Beadle, restrain her!" I dug my knee into his stomach before the Beadle roughly pulled me off of his master. I kicked at him, and he was surprisingly strong for such a short man.

He tossed me onto the street beside Anthony, who'd just started to get up. He brought the cane down on me once and had lifted it to strike again when I kicked at his feet, knocking him off balance. I struck out at him once more before grabbing Anthony's hand and pulling him away from the house and back to the main street.

"Are- are you all right, Miss Fletcher." Anthony asked once we'd finally stopped.

I quickly checked myself over. "It's Cayden. And nothing appears to be broken, just a little black and blue... and a bit of red, too, I suppose. How about you?"

"I'm fine." Anthony panted. "But Johanna, she's in danger, isn't she?"

"Well, yes..." I sighed. "Look, Anthony, how about you meet me here tomorrow at noon. However, it's a long walk from your mum's place. Might I suggest you get your own apartment for the time being and visit your mother later?" Anthony nodded.

"That would be a good idea. Thanks, Cayden. Are you going to help?"

"Definitely. Johanna is like my little sister, and I made a promise to her parents and myself. I'm getting her out of there."

"Thank you, Cayden, thank you!" He shook my hand up and down ecstatically.

Great. Now I'd just gotten Anthony into all of this. Now I had to get Anthony an apartment somewhere for cheap. And I had to get back home soon, I was starting to feel a little faint. I cast my glance out into the street in despair and my eyes landed on a familiar figure with dark hair and bright green eyes in a constable's uniform.

"Constable Fleet! Please, Constable!" I called, waving my bloodied hand.

"Rose?" He asked quietly. He looked up and called across the street. "What can I help you with, Miss Cayden Fletcher?" He regarded me coolly, avoiding my gaze. He sighed and looked up, planning to give me an icy glare for ditching him earlier. His eyes widened as he took in the blood encrusting Anthony and I. "Miss Fletcher, what happened?"

"We had a run-in with the _law_." I spat the last word and gestured to the Judge's house. "Derek," I whispered. "I'm sorry for earlier, but I had to talk to Johanna, Judge Turpin's ward-"

"I know who she is."

"I need you to help get Anthony an apartment, cheap, near here. Please?" I begged.

"Tell you what. Anthony, the apartment complex that I stay in is renting, real cheap. It's on Linnet Street."

"I know where that is!" Anthony said excitedly.

"Good. Here's an extra key to my apartment. Go on in and wash yourself up before you ask the landlord for your own apartment. He doesn't take kindly to bloody residents." He tossed Anthony a key to his apartment and wrapped one arm around my shoulder and took one of my bloody hands in his. "I'm going to walk Miss Fletcher home, she looks rather pale."

Anthony nodded and headed off in the direction of Linnet Street whilst we strolled towards Fleet Street. I rested my head on his shoulder, and I realized how tired I was.

"Rose? Are you sure you're all right?" I nodded and replied.

"Just tired. And in desperate need of a bath and some first aid."

He nodded and we walked home in silence. I started walking up the steps to my room when I turned around and called out to Derek.

"Derek!" He turned. "Thanks. Really." He flashed a bright smile and turned towards his home. I went inside and headed to the washroom. My eyes were still a bright green, though I could swear there was something different about them. Whatever. All things considered it had still been a good day. But as I thought about it I paled even more, if that was possible (my complexion was milk-white, again, inherited from my mother) though whether from my thoughts or blood loss I didn't know. But me, Anthony, Johanna, and Derek were all caught in this web. We were trying to escape from this web of wrongs woven by the Judge fifteen years ago in his sending away Benjamin Barker and ruining the lives of Lucy and perhaps Johanna. We were in too deep to turn back.

**So? What do you think? Yeah, Rose is violent, but it's for a good cause!! And, yes, I seem to enjoy causing her pain. Deal with it. Just so you know... All of Rose's things that are like the songs in the movie can sort of be set to the music if you have no life and decided to try. For No Place Like London, she gets Sweeney's part only MUCH higher. Poor thing just treat her like her mother. Anthony sings his song about Johanna on the way to Derek's apartment complex. Please review! Toby!**

**Toby: We allow anonomys reviews!**

**Me: It's anonymous, Toby.**

**Toby: It's not my fault you didn't give me a script!**

**Me: Anyway, Toby's right and flames are welcome, too, because I need something to roast my marshmallows with. I expect everyone to review this who views it!! Every time you don't review the Beadle hits Anthony with his cane! So review!**


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